


Astoria's rose

by deathlypassion96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drowning, Gen, Graphic Description, Mental Instability, Murder, POV First Person, Strangulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-25
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-11-04 18:45:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,192
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10996767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlypassion96/pseuds/deathlypassion96
Summary: Mentally unstable Harry can't get over being jilted by Draco for Asotria and so deals with it in the only way he can think of - get rid of the source of the problem.





	Astoria's rose

**Author's Note:**

> This was written as part of a writing group challenge with strict restrictions and may or may not be finished. Undecided yet, sorry.

An amethyst-purple tint invades the late summer skies. The world is changing and autumn is approaching. Soon the land will be a-fire in the warm glow of tree-flame. Pagan rituals such as Hallowe’en will bring back long dead memories of trolls, spooks and hobgoblins.   
  
For now, however, the fields are still nirvana-green. Bees are still murmuring in that strange cult hum exclusive to them. They flit from flower to flower, surfing the short spaces as they go. The stars are summer stars, flickering like pulsing lodestars. 

 

The butterfly beats its wings up and down so sharply it looks like it's under remote control, as if a tiny electrical current opens and shuts those vivid yellow blades. With legs that somehow stick, it holds the stem of the flower that is already passed its peak, petals blackened at the edges and curling. Perhaps it already knows the summer is fast becoming fall, that soon the leaves will tumble and the nights close in, chilly and short. I hope not. I hope it lives everyday with never a thought for the future or past. 

 

I allow the moist grass to tickle and lick at my palm as I watch her: A perfect frame of elegance and grace. Each footstep is carefully placed, carefully measured whilst her muddy hair shimmers down her spine, not one out of place. My love’s wife. She cannot see me, of course. Astoria Greengrass only has one sight in view this evening: Malfoy Manor - a place which holds our shared love.

 

The rose garden at the manor had always been one of my favourite places. It was steeped in beauty and the bright whites of the roses dazzled me. The pungent smell invaded my nostrils, filling me with tranquility and soothed my soul. It is here that I feel most at home; under the stars, breathing in the wild. 

 

The adrenaline floods my system like it's on an intravenous drip - right into my blood at full pelt. I think my heart will explode and my eyes are wide, letting in every ounce of the fading light. My body wants to run fast for the hills but instead I stay right where I am. Sometimes freezing is the best of the choices, and let's face it, there really are only three that I can make tonight - I can run, stay or do what I came to. I want to quell the hammering in my chest, but there's no way that will happen now. Surely she can hear the blood racing through my veins. Or perhaps my laboured breath.

 

She walks right past me, without a second glance. I stifle a laugh as she walks straight through the wards to comfort, home and to await her family. I know Scorpius is in the middle of his weekly visit to Lucius and Narcissa at their smaller, yet still luxurious home in the country and Draco is working late. I know that you will be relieved to get home after a long and tiring day. I know that your body is frail and every day you weaken more. It's plain to see the strained lines around your mouth and the fatigue in your eyes but still you carry on in shameless hope.

 

Your curse has taken it’s toll on Draco as well. The fire has left his eyes and he's aged tenfold but you're both riding on the chance of a miracle. A saving grace. 

 

Consider me your saving grace.

 

The leaves beneath my feet try to warn you but I know that you cannot hear them. You'll be soaking in a warm bath, trying to regenerate for tomorrow. Passing through your wards won't be easy, but I know I can break them without alerting you - my magic is strong enough. 

 

As I reach the door, I'm sure my heart will give me away. It's practically knocking on your door but I enter, unheard. The wards around the manor try to resist me, desperate to expel me but I am stronger. The hum from my magic fills the foyer and I know I must move fast to avoid the elves. Despite your family's beliefs and morals moving forward into the 20th century, your lifestyle has not. 

 

Locating the master bathroom wasn't hard, I too bathed there what seemed like a lifetime ago. I too felt the ripples of the water and breathed in the fragrance of the salts. I too found a sense of home here. The gush of taps and water crashing against the side of the marble allows me to once again, enter unnoticed. 

 

Unseen, I desperately trying to swallow my excitement for I know that one wrong move will abort this plan. Your porcelain back is facing me and you are entirely naked; physically and emotionally. Here, behind closed doors you lay vulnerable. Getting from the door to you has been the hardest part so far. With every step I become more aware yet more aneathesised until finally, I stand behind you, more alive than I have ever been.

 

When you finally meet my eyes, it is too late. My forearm is already pressing hard against your throat. Your petite frame writhes in my arms whilst a fire starts in your eyes. The realisation upon seeing me triggers a fight in you that neither one of us knew was in you but I am stronger.

 

Your lungs scream in protest as you gulp, hungrily for air. It is in this moment that I appreciate your beauty - delicate and unobtrusive; like a rose. Water soaks me as you seek escape desperately in the already overflowing bath.

 

Arms flail, clawing desperately at my skin, drawing blood which taints the bath water as it drips from my skin but still I press harder on your bruising neck. The fire is extinguishing in your eyes whilst your brain surrenders to the lack of oxygen. You begin to limp in my arms and become less animated. 

 

The last of the struggle in you is violated when I release you from my hold and submerge your tired body fully in the water. It doesn't take long for life to leave your body completely. Your dulled eyes stare up at me and I pity you. You are dead and I am finding life in having been the one who took your life. 

 

Your flawless, pale body is complimented by the bloody water in which you lie and so I do not disturb you instead, I turn off the taps and leave the manor but there is one last stop I need to make before returning home - the rose gardens for what will likely be my last visit.

 

Peace is restored as I stand, basking in the beauty of the twilight and roses. Such purity and enchantment exists in the world and it pleases me deeply. Carefully, I summon an addition to the garden of my own from a nearby garden - a blood red rose that pricks my fingers unapologetically when I catch it. Soothing my forefinger and middle, I caress the velvety petals and intoxicate myself with it's deep fragrance. 

 

Amongst the white, I leave it - Astoria’s rose.


End file.
